The other day, my throat was a little sore, so I decided on Boston Market for lunch. Now, if you don’t have Boston Market where you live, let me explain that it’s basically fast comfort food. Nothing is fried. Main courses are roast chicken, meatloaf, and ham. Sides are creamed spinach, mashed potatoes, macs & cheese, stuffing, mixed veggies, and the like. Comfort food. On a cold or clammy day, I love going there.
Now, sometimes they have one soup and sometimes two. They’ll rotate in a special, like most fast food joints. And my throat was sore, so I wanted soup.
I go to the girl and I ask “What’s the soup today?”
She points and says “That one.”
Fail.
You would be shocked to find how many people in our culture are functionally illiterate. I have a feeling she might not have been able to read it.
I’ve told you about the time the husband managed a nursing home kitchen, all of a sudden all the people there were making mistakes with the food. It seems they had changed purveyors, and the new cans did not have pictures on the lables.
Good thing you weren’t asking about a food allergy or something!
Actually, Barbs, there wasn’t a sign. They just put the food out in trays. She just didn’t understand what I was asking. Or she didn’t know the name.